Sixth Grade Secrets
by ZivaKateAbby4Eva
Summary: This is my first crossover, so please be nice. Third person POV. PLEASE REVIEW! if you don't like how Carlisle is in this, well, sorry. Sorry again if not 100% funny. Please read! Enjoy!
1. Table of Characters

_Alright, I've put a lot of thought into this, and I thought since I loved NCIS and Twilight, I am going to write a NCIS/Twilight crossover. It is in the sixth grade, written in third person POV. Enjoy!_

**Table Of Characters**

This is a list of some of the people in Esme's class. Esme has been going to the same school for over six years, so she knows everybody fairly well. But unless you go to Esme's school, you may have trouble remembering who is who. This list is here to help you if you need it. These aren't all the people in Esme's class, just the ones who are mentioned in the book at least twice.

Esme- our hero. If you forget who she is, then you'll need more than this list to help you.

Rosalie-Ticklish. Has trouble eating spaghetti.

Alice-Always wears clean underwear.

Carlisle-has copied more dictionary pages than anyone else in Mr. Doyle's class.

Mr. Doyle-the best teacher in the school. The worst teacher in the school. Take your pick.

Kate-Small face, big glasses.

Victoria-Curly hair. Hates Esme. Sits behind Carlisle.

Abby-Hangs upside-down before tests.

Ari-wants everybody to like him. Nobody does.

Michelle-Talks all the time. Ziva's best friend. Nothing bothers her, not even Carlisle.

Ziva-very shy. Very pretty. Michelle's best friend.

Timothy-Smartest, fastest, strongest, and most handsome boy in Mr. Doyle's class, and he knows it.

Emmett-talks funny. Likes to watch turkeys playing football.

Jasper-Good singer. His grandmother picks out his clothes for him.

Jenny-Teacher's pet. Has never had to copy a dictionary page.

There are fifteen other kids in Mr. Doyle's class who didn't make this list. I hope they don't feel too bad. I'm sure they're interesting people, too, and maybe someday another author will write a story about them.


	2. Esme

_Hey…first actual chapter! Hope you enjoy! *sigh* Let me do a disclaimer, although I don't really want to…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or NCIS. There, end of story. Period. Please don't ask me again. It makes me upset._

_Let's go, shall we?_

** Chapter One: Esme**

It all started with a hat.

Esme was at a garage sale with her friends Rosalie and Alice.

"Ew, don't put that on your head." Said Alice. "You don't know where it's been. It might have lice."

Esme hesitated a moment, then put it on her head. She realized Alice might be right, but she also thought it was a tacky thing to say in front of the man who used to wear it. Anyway, the man was bald, so how could he have lice?

"How much?" she asked.

The bald man smiled. He was missing a front tooth. "Well, it was a dollar." He said, "But since you're so pretty, you can have it for fifty cents."

It was a red cap with a blue brim. In silver letters above the brim were the words PIG CITY. It fit snug, but not too tight over her very long caramel-colored hair. "What do you think?" she asked her friends.

Rosalie looked up from a box of records and laughed, "It's cute."

"Everything looks cute on you, Esme," Alice agreed.

Esme bought the cap, but she insisted on paying the original price, one dollar. She didn't think she should get it any cheaper just because she was pretty.

"What does Pig City mean?" Rosalie asked the man.

He didn't answer. He just winked at her.

Esme knew her parents wouldn't like the cap. They never liked any clothes she bought at garage sales. They couldn't understand why she'd want to wear somebody's old clothes when they'd buy her anything she wanted new.

But where would she be able to find a new cap that said PIG CITY on it? Well, actually, she remembered there was a store at the mall where they sold caps with anything anyone wanted printed on them. Still, it wasn't the same. The thing that made this cap so special was that she didn't buy it at the mall. It was like Alice said, "You don't know where it's been." That was why she liked it. What was Pig City? It was mysterious.

"How do you know it doesn't have lice?" Alice asked as the three girls walked away.

"He was bald." Said Esme.

"So?" asked Alice. "He wasn't ALWAYS bald."

"How do you know?" Rosalie asked, "Maybe he was born bald."

"Everybody's born bald." Said Esme.

Rosalie laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't put someone else's hat on my head," said Alice, "What if the man used to be a pig farmer?"

Alice had short black hair that stuck up in every direction. Her face was clean, fresh, and healthy-looking. Her teeth were white, and her fingernails were neatly trimmed. You could just tell by looking at her that she always wore clean underwear.

"Maybe Pig City is the name of a health club," said Rosalie, "where fat people go to lose weight."

Alice laughed, "Or where slobs go to learn good manners." She added.

Esme laughed.

"What if it really is a city?" asked Rosalie, "And the only people who live there are fat slobs with bad manners!"

They all laughed.

"Maybe it's a beautiful city." Said Esme, "with flowers and trees everywhere, and beaches. They just call it Pig City to keep the tourists away."

"Wouldn't that be great?" said Alice, "And not too many people would want to live in a city called Pig City either, so it's not crowded or polluted."

"It's the most beautiful place in the world." Said Rosalie, "just like the Garden of Eden. And nobody wears clothes, just fig leaves."

Rosalie probably changed her underwear everyday too, you could tell just by looking at her, but it was slightly harder to tell. Something about her was slightly messy. Her clothes fit pretty good, a little short, but not too bad. Her hair was always slightly wavy, so whenever she brushed it, it just got thicker-looking.

"I'm going to be a pig farmer when I grow up," Esme declared.

Rosalie laughed.

"I thought you wanted to be President." Said Alice.

"I can do both," said Esme, "You can only be President for eight years."

Esme's goal was to be the first woman president of the United States. That was why it bothered her when people told her she was pretty. Nobody ever told George Washington he was pretty.

Esme had little doubt that she would someday be President. It was just a question of whether or not she'd be the first woman. She was afraid another woman might beat her to it.

Just as George Washington is known as the Father of our Country, someday she wanted to be known as the Mother of our Country.

"If you're a pig farmer, you have to kill pigs," Rosalie pointed out.

"Oh, I could never do that," said Esme.

"That's how they make their money," said Rosalie, "They raise pigs until they're big and fat, then they butcher them! Just so people can eat bacon. It's disgusting."

"What about farmers who have dairy cows?" asked Alice, "They don't kill their cows. They just milk them and make money by selling the milk."

"But Esme wants to be a pig farmer, not a cow farmer." Said Rosalie.

"Oh," said Alice, "So?" she asked, "Why can't she milk pigs? Pigs are mammals! They have milk, too."

They had been studying mammals in Mr. Doyle's class.

"Pig milk?" questioned Rosalie.

"Yes!" exclaimed Esme. She liked that idea. "You've heard of goat milk. Why not pig milk? It will be a new product! And pig cheese! I'll be the only one selling it, so I'll make lots of money."

"How about pig yogurt?" suggested Alice, "Yogurt already tastes like it comes from pigs, anyway."

"And pig butter," said Esme.

"And pig cottage cheese," said Alice.

"And pig ice cream," Rosalie joined in.

When Esme was four years old her father told her about George Washington. It was the day before kindergarten. She was supposed to get her hair cut. She threw a temper tantrum.

"No!" she screamed and cried. "I don't want to get my hair cut! No, no, no, no, no!" she stomped angrily around the house, kicking things. When she kicked a table in the living room, the lamp on top of it fell and broke.

She instantly stopped crying.

Her father rushed in when he heard the crash. He looked at Esme, then the broken lamp. "How did this happen?" he demanded.

"I don't know Daddy," Esme said innocently. "I was just standing here, when suddenly the lamp broke."

He didn't get angry or accuse her of lying. Instead, he told her the story of George Washington and the cherry tree, and how George Washington later grew up to be the first president of the United States, the Father of our Country.

When he was finished, Esme stared bravely into her fathers eyes and said, "I cannot tell a lie. I broke the lamp."

Just as George Washington didn't get in trouble for chopping down the cherry tree, Esme Platt didn't get in trouble for breaking the lamp. She didn't have to get her hair cut, either. Her parents promised that she'd never have to get her hair cut, as long as she never told another lie.

She was now in sixth grade. There was only a month and a half left of school. Her hair was long and thick and reached down below her waist. She hadn't lied yet.

"Pig ice cream?" questioned Alice, "Yuck-ola!"

_Ta-da! The first chapter done. I know, I know. No NCIS characters yet, but it's getting there. Trust me. : )_


	3. Pig City

_Okay, here's the second chapter of my newest story! Hope you have been liking it!_

** Chapter Two: Pig City**

Esme wore the cap every day for a week. Her parents got used to it. Everybody in school used to make some dumb comment about it, but soon they got used to it too. By the end of the week, it had become a part of her. She would have looked strange without it.

"We'll be in the Dog House!" Esme shouted, then slammed the door behind her.

Rosalie and Alice were waiting in the backyard, sucking on grape popsicles. They liked coming to Esme's house because there was always good food to eat.

The Dog House was big enough for a dog the size of an elephant. It was built by Esme's father and her oldest brother fifteen years ago. Esme had two brothers and one sister, but they were much older than she was. None of them lived at home .

It was called the Dog House because from the outside it looked like a giant dog house with a door. Also, the first name of the club inside it had been The Dogs.

Since then, it had been home to the Paul McCartney Fan Club, the Spiders, The Cowgirls, The Destroyers, The Erasers, The Devils, and now a new club: Pig City.

Esme was the president of Pig City. Alice said she should be mayor and not president because it was a city and not a country, but she was outvoted. Rosalie was vice-president and Alice was Secretary. So far, they were the only members.

They entered the Dog House. Rosalie plopped down in the old purple beanbag chair. Alice sat on the bed covered by a black-and-white checkered bed-spread. Esme sat in the swinging bamboo chair that hung from the ceiling.

There was also a bookcase, a television, two lamps, a coffee table, and various other odds and ends, mostly odds. Nearly everything came from garage sales.

Nothing electrical worked, which didn't matter since there were no electrical outlets. They had a battery-operated cassette tape recorder if they wanted to listen to music.

Esme made a fist with her right hand, then raised it and held it lengthwise against her nose, like a pig's snout. Alice and Rosalie did the same. Then they all solemnly lowered their fists. It was the Pig City secret salute.

Pig City was a secret club. It had to be. Clubs were no longer allowed at Esme's school. Earlier in the year there were several clubs, but a parent complained because her child couldn't join one. After that, clubs were no longer allowed.

"You're first, Alice." Said Esme.

Alice blushed.

"What'd you bring, Alice?" asked Rosalie.

Alice removed a photograph from her jacket pocket and set it on the coffee table. "You don't have to stare at it!" she exclaimed.

It was a picture of her when she was three years old, naked in the bathtub.

"I got it out of my parents' album," she said. "Can you believe it? They used to show it to everyone who came over! I'd be sitting right there in the room with them, and they'd show the album to their friends, with that picture in it. 'How adorable' they'd say, 'how precious.' Every one of my parent's friends have seen my butt!"

Rosalie laughed.

"Aw, how adorable." Said Esme.

"It's not funny!" said Alice. She turned the picture over.

Esme had a jewelry box that looked just like an old-time pirate's chest. She opened it and placed Alice's picture facedown on the torn red felt.

"Your turn, Rosalie," said Alice. "And it better be something good."

"It's better than yours." Said said, "I mean, worse.

Rosalie's lips were purple form the grape popsicle. She unfolded what looked like the front page of a newspaper. A huge banner headline proclaimed:

**ROSALIE'S TICKLISH!**

Alice and Esme laughed. Esme moved to the bed next to Alice, and they read it together.

**Rosalie, the world-famous spaghetti eater, is ticklish. That's right, ticklish! It has been conclusively established by our team of expert ticklers that she is ticklish all over. **

** A finger under her chin will cause her to giggle for hours. Squeeze her sides and she will jump six feet in the air. Touch a feather to her toes and watch her writhe on the floor in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Tickle her armpits at your own risk! **

** Caution: Do not tickle her while she is eating spaghetti, or she will dump her plate on your head.**

"It's not funny!" said Rosalie. "Everybody who reads that stupid thing tries to tickle me!"

"Where'd it come from?" Alice asked.

"Oh, my uncle had it made at a carnival we all went to. He wrote it himself, of course; it's so stupid."

"Did you really dump a plate of spaghetti on his head?" asked Esme.

"No!" Rosalie scowled. "That's another one of his so-called jokes that he thinks is funny. He always makes fun of me because of ONE TIME when we went to an Italian restaurant and I got spaghetti sauce on my clothes. Of course, he thought it was hilarious."

Esme got a peacock feather out of a blue vase on top of the bookcase. She held it menacingly over Rosalie, who was somewhat trapped in the bean bag chair.

Just the sight of the feather made Rosalie giggle. "Get away," she squealed.

Alice reached over and squeezed Rosalie's side. She jumped out of the beanbag chair.

Esme put the feather back in the vase and placed Rosalie's newspaper article in the treasure chest.

"Your turn, Esme." Said Rosalie.

Esme took out a folded piece of paper out of the back pocket of her blue jeans and dropped it onto the coffee table. She returned to her swinging bamboo chair.

Alice unfolded Esme's paper. "Wow," she said, and handed it to Rosalie.

_Declaration of Love_

_ I, Esme Platt, declare, now and forever, that I am in love with my teacher, Mr. Doyle. I dream about him all the time, and if I was older, I'd like to marry him._

_ With all my heart,_

_ Esme Platt_

Rosalie gasped.

"Mr. Doyle?" asked Alice, "You're kidding."

"I never lie." Said Esme.

"I guess he's all right for a teacher." Said Rosalie.

Esme placed her Declaration of Love in the treasure chest. She raised her fist to her nose. Rosalie and Alice did the same. Esme spoke. "If any one of us tells anybody anything about Pig City, the other two will show her secret to the whole school!"

They lowered their fists.

_Ta-da! The second chapter, complete. I hope you all liked it, and be sure to review, review, and REVIEW until your fingers shrivel up and drop off your hands! Just kidding…unless you actually WANT that to happen…_


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay, third chapter of my crossover. Hope you all are enjoying this story! I know the chapters are kind of short, but that's how I wanted them to be. Here is the third chapter of this story of mine._

Chapter Three: Mr. Doyle

Wednesday morning Esme sneaked into the school building before school started. The main doors were locked, but she knew of a side door that would be open. She cautiously looked around, then walked boldly towards Mr. Doyle's room was if she had every right to be there.

Her school was once what was known as an "open school." There were no walls between the classrooms. But, in the last few years, the administration had done their best to "close" it.

Large wooden bookcases new separated one room from another. The door to Mr. Doyle's room was a yellow curtain hung between two metal closets. Esme pushed through.

Mr. Doyle wasn't there. She knew he wouldn't' be. Be was sitting at a table in the teachers lounge drinking coffee and talking to the other teachers. That's where he was every morning. She sometimes fantized about sitting there with him, talking about interesting and important topics. She thought it sounded very romantic.

In the upper-right hand corner of the blackboard was the word DICTONARY. Esme felt a pang of terror as she looked at that word. It was the most feared word in Mr. Doyle's class.

She picked up a piece of chalk and wrote in big letters in the center of the board:

PIGS RULE!

She set down the chalk, then walked back through the school and out the side door. Safe outside, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Someone tapped her on her shoulder.

She spun around.

"Oink, oink." Said Carlisle.

She forced a smile.

Sure, Carlisle was cute, but he was sometimes annoying, in Esme's opinion. He was a boy in her class. Ever since she started wearing the cap, Carlisle said "oink, oink" every time he saw her.

She wondered if he had seen her coming out of the building. She decided it didn't matter. Carlisle wouldn't' tell on her. He never told on anyone, although everyone was always telling on him.

Carlisle had copied more dictionary pages than anybody else in Mr. Doyle's class. That was Mr. Doyle's unique way of punishment. When kids got in trouble they had to copy a page out of the dictionary. They had to copy everything on the page, including the Latin origins and all the pronunciation symbols.

Esme hated the little upside-down e's the worst. She had copied five pages over the year. She figured Carlisle had probably copied a whole dictionary by now.

"Oink, oink," he said again.

She turned and walked away. Her hair swished behind her, just missing his face.

Alice and Rosalie came across the blacktop. They raised their fists to their noses. Esme returned the salute.

They tried to decide whom else to ask to join Pig City. They finally settled on Kate because she was smart. The problem was how to ask her while still keeping the club a secret.

Esme didn't tell them about her message on the board. She wanted it a surprise.

When the bell rang, they lined up and marched into class. Esme heard everybody in front of her laugh at PIGS RULE! She laughed, too. If she hadn't, Mr. Doyle would have known she was the one who had written it. That was why he hadn't erased it yet. She knew how his mind worked. He wanted to see who didn't laugh.

You have to get up pretty early in the morning to outsmart me, Mr. Doyle, she thought.

He would have to get up very early if he wanted to get up before Esme. Her alarm went off at 5:43. It took her an hour just to shampoo, comb, brush, and blow dry to her hair.

"Esme, will you come up here, please," said Mr. Doyle.

She stood up, lifted her cap, shook her hair back, and put the cap back on. She walked confidently to his desk.

"Do you know anything about this?" he asked.

She had to be careful not to tell a lie. She read aloud from the blackboard. "Pigs…Rule… what about it?"

"Why don't you tell me?" said Mr. Doyle.

Esme took off her cap and carefully studied the front of it. Then she looked at the board. "My hat doesn't say Pigs Rule, it says Pig City" she brushed her hair off her face and put the cap back on.

He stared at her.

She smiled innocently back at him.

"Do you know who wrote it?" he asked.

"It couldn't have been a pig," Esme said, "Pigs can't write."

"No, but sixth-grade girls can." He said.

"I know," said Esme. "We learned how to print in the first grade."

He told her to go back to her seat.

She turned around, swishing her hand behind her. She smiled at Rosalie and Alice. They were obviously impressed. She raised to fist to her nose, then quickly lowered it. They did the same.

Her desk was on one side of the room, Rosalie's was on the other side, and Alice was in the middle at the front. Mr. Doyle had learned at the beginning of the year to keep the three girls separated.

"Jenny, will you erase the board, please," said Mr. Doyle.

Esme felt a little jealous as she watched Jenny erase the board. Jenny sat at the desk closest to Mr. Doyle's and was always doing things for him. She was the teacher's pet. She was the only person in the class who hadn't copied a dictionary page.

I wouldn't want to be a teacher's pet anyway, thought Esme. That's sickening. I can be in love with him without having to be his pet.

She put her hands behind her head, leaned back, and smiled contentedly.

_Well, third chapter done. REVIEW! REVIEW! And REVIEW Puh-Lease! I really like the reviews. To me, reviews are like hugs, and I like getting a lot of them. I also like giving reviews. Be sure to review so I know at least someone out there likes it, and I can be sure that I should keep typing this story. If I don't get reviews, how am I supposed to know that people like the story? :D _


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